


This Tongue of Mine

by howveryzoe



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: All ocs are named after comet on its way characters, High School AU, Less than consensual situation subverted, Multi, Very Ernst centric, i didn't really edit, it's just a trip I can't explain it well, minor homophobia, or reformatory boys, this fic is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howveryzoe/pseuds/howveryzoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month before his sixteenth birthday Ernst Robel finds himself in a world he can barely understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Tongue of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a lot of discourse as I wrote this so I just want to clarify some things. I am in no way slut shaming Ernst Robel. My constant usage of that word is to make a point. I am very aware I could use a variety of slang instead but I wanted to repeat that one phrase to show its impact upon his emotional growth and psyche. I am aware that slut shaming is targeted at girls more than boys. In addition I am not virginity shaming either. This story is not meant to be an accurate depiction of someone's sex life in high school. I am trying to tell a story about love and sex and slut shaming and virginity. I am not taking a stance or starting a crusade. I'm just telling a story.

At age ten a lot of things seemed very simple to Ernst Robel. For example: he knew he was going to do everything that God and his family expected of him. Without even really thinking about it. So when in Sunday school they discussed “waiting for marriage” it had seemed simple for him. He wanted to keep himself pure, he didn’t feel like it would be very hard, and it wasn’t as if he was jumping on any of the girls in his class. It hadn’t been something hard for him to decide. It was just a fact. He was a good Catholic boy. He wouldn’t want to “do it” before he got married. The idea was almost scary. He nodded in agreement to his teacher’s commands without a second thought. And that was that.  
Then at age twelve he watched Spartacus in history class and realized he was gay. Really gay. Irreparably gay. And after he went through the initial stages of denial and self anger he came to an inevitable, for a boy such as Ernst, state of self acceptance. But then he remembered another thing he had to think of “waiting for marriage.” Because he certainly wasn’t going to be “populating the planet” now. And he wasn’t doing as God commanded. He couldn’t even enter into “holy matrimony” in his church or his state at that time. Marriage wasn’t gonna happen. Or if it was it wasn’t what it was before. So he decided to amend his previous statement. He wasn’t waiting for marriage. But LORD knows he wasn’t going to be one of those promiscuous gay men like he saw on television. He would wait. Wait till he was truly in love and would be spending the rest of his life with the man. And then he would do...do whatever it is the gays did in bed. Because at age twelve Ernst didn’t really even know this. But he was sure he could wait for that. He lay on the shag rug of his bedroom and stared at the slightly peeling ceiling and made this vow.  
But then he was fifteen, exactly a month before his sixteenth birthday. And he was standing in the locker room at school, the last to leave. Or at least he thought the last. He had been a bit tired that day, gazing into space, thinking about finals. He swore to himself later that it wouldn’t even have happened if he had gotten dressed faster. That none of this would’ve happened. That he wasn’t THAT kind of boy. The room was just a bit too hot, the AC having not kicked in yet. His pants were on but his shirt off and he was about to zip up his fly when a figure emerged from the showers. Messy wet hair. Long skinny, hairy legs. Slightly dirty towel wrapped around his torso. Squinty green eyes. Sloppy smile on his face. Melchior Gabor.   
“Moritz!” He called, thinking his friend was still there. His face fell slightly seeing Ernst. “Oh sorry Ernst didn’t see you there. Have you, uh, seen Moritz? Did he leave yet?”  
“Uh, yeah, yeah, he was feeling shitty so Ilse and him cut last period to get froyo.” Ernst said awkwardly, blushing just a bit to be caught like this.  
“Oh, fuck. Sorry. Sorry.” He cusses and then immediately apologizes laughing. “Sorry I’m such a douche.”  
“It’s okay.” Ernst says truly. “I don’t mind.”  
“Well, shit I better get dressed.” Melchior says walking over to his clothes. Ernst cringes suddenly, his mind racing because ‘is he going to take his towel off right now in front of me?’ Melchior turns to him and notices his tense face in confusion. “Hey man are you okay?”  
“Can you get dressed please? And maybe where I can’t...SEE you?” Ernst says hands fumbling at his pants anxiously.   
“Wh-of course yeah, yeah.” Melchior says apologetically, laughing a little. “Christ to think I’ve known you my whole life and we’re both too ashamed to see each other naked. Bizarre.” Ernst doesn’t find it bizarre. Ernst finds it a fact of life. Ernst wants to get his clothes on and get back to his good Catholic house and his last period class.  
“Look, it’s different for me okay?” Ernst tells him desperately.  
“Why?”  
“Because I’m, you know, gay. And you’re...not.” He says it softly, still having trouble forming the words now, a few years later since he figured them out in his head.  
“Wait, hold on, I know you’re gay. But you don’t think I’m straight do you?” Melchior’s eyes widen and he asks the question aghast. Ernst’s eyes narrow.   
“Aren’t you?”  
“No! I like boys.”  
“But, I saw you and Ilse at that party making out a few months ago!” Ernst nearly yells it like a lawyer presenting evidence.   
“Well, yeah, I like girls too. Idk man I just like people.” Melchior explains shaking his head with a grin.  
“Oh.” A pause. “How did you know?”  
“How did you?”  
“Touche.” Ernst pauses and lets that settle. But suddenly the air is too tense to keep getting dressed and he needs to keep talking to Melchior. Needs to keep this going.  
“Have you ever, with a boy?” Ernst asks in an almost childish way.  
“Oh yeah. Once.” Melchior responds casually.   
“With who?” Melchior’s face looks pained for a moment and the corners of his mouth twitch.  
“You mustn't tell Ernst.”  
“I won’t.”  
“No but you really can’t tell anyone. Please you can’t he made me promise not to tell anyone.”  
“Is he in the closet?” Melchior laughs at that.  
“No! No way! He just doesn’t want people to know he screwed me.”  
“Oh. Who was it then?”  
“Don’t laugh.”  
“I won’t.”  
“Hanschen Rilow.” Ernst gasps, a hand placed to his mouth in childish scandal.  
“Hanschen Rilow!? But he just! All that with Max!” Ernst can barely contain himself.  
“It was after that was over I swear! They’d already broken up! We were partners for a Latin assignment. And he was talking about how upset he was and how bad he felt about the whole cheating thing and Stan leaking those pictures and I don’t know it just happened.” Melchior looks a little ashamed but not too much.  
“What was it like?” Ernst asks it with almost no inflection his voice. Not even longing. It’s more of a statement than anything. “What did he say?”  
“Well we were leaning over the Latin and sitting really close.” Melchior moved closer to Ernst to demonstrate. “And I said I was really sorry about everything. Which was true. And he said it was okay. And then he put his hand on my face like this.” Melchior placed his hand on Ernst’s face. “And I asked him what he was doing and he didn’t say anything he just did this.” Closing his eyes Melchior leaned in and kissed Ernst. The boy’s cheeks turned bright red and he gasped.  
“And did you-you kiss b-back?” Ernst asked him breathless.  
“Yes.” Ernst leaned in himself and kissed Melchior.  
“Like this?”  
“More tongue?”  
“Like this?”  
“Exactly like that.” Melchior smiled. “And then we pulled away and he looked at me. And he said ‘do you want to..?’ And sort of trailed off. And I said-”  
“Yes.” Ernst finished for him.”  
“And he said ‘have you ever’ and I said-”  
“No.”  
“But I said I had with a girl before.”  
“You did?” Ernst is surprised.  
“Marianna on that trip to DC in January, we got lost at the Smithsonian, it was an experiment just that. He laughed when I told him this.”  
“What happened next?” Ernst doesn’t want to hear about Marianna Wheelan. He feels as if his heart is stuck in his mouth. A frantic yearning that tenses his every joint.  
“Well, he said he knew I knew he’d done it. Everyone had. He said ‘I guess I’m a bit of a slut now’ and I said-”  
“No, you’re not.”  
“Yeah. Well he then said was I sure I wanted to? Because it would be my first with a guy and my second ever.”  
“Yes, I want to.”  
“Well, then we made sure my mom wasn’t home.” Both boys looked over their shoulders for gym teachers. “And I asked him-”  
“Do you have a condom?”  
“Yeah, and he pulled one out of his bag like this.” Melchior reaches into his school bag and pulls out the shiny packet. Ernst tries to keep from shaking. “And then well, then we started kissing again and I got down on the floor, and well-” Melchior stops for a second noticing the shaking boy. “Ernst are you certain this is what you want?”  
“Positive. Yes. Please.” Ernst can barely get the words out. Melchior drops his towel and uses his free hand to cup the boys face and push him against the lockers with kisses. Ernst doesn’t zip up his skinny jeans.  
By the end of last period Ernst has been bent over the bench in the locker room and is finally lying on the floor, wrapped in the same dirty towel. Melchior’s hair is far messier and Ernst’s lips are puffy from kisses. Melchior pulls himself up and looks into the other boy’s dark eyes.   
“Are you alright Ernst?” He says it tentatively. Ernst can only nod. “We should go home now I suppose. We missed last period.”  
“I can’t go to class like this anyway. I’d feel dirty.” Ernst confesses. Melchior stands up and begins pulling his clothes on.  
“Um, I’ll call you.” Melchior says apologetically.   
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” Ernst tells him truthfully.  
“Are you sure? Because I will, it’s not hard for me to do that.” Melchior tells him awkwardly. Ernst shakes his head again. Suddenly all he wants is to be alone.  
“Please, it’s okay, there’s no hard feelings at all. And there would be nothing to say I don’t think.” Ernst leans up from the towel as he says this and Melchior looks as if he has more to say. But then suddenly he nods his head, grabs his bag, turns on heel and leaves.  
Ernst stares up at the lockers for a moment after he sees the door close behind the other boy. So that was that, he thinks as he begins to finally pull his clothes on. That was what he had said he would wait twenty years for. It didn’t particularly feel like it would’ve been worth it. But he had certainly enjoyed it. He was surprised how, when faced with the opportunity of sex, his willpower melted away. His parents had told him it would in bedside talks when he turned fourteen but he hadn’t really, believed them. Maybe he should've or this wouldn’t have happened. He can’t tell. The one thing he is certain about is he doesn’t love Melchior. He hadn't even really had that much of a crush on Melchior. It had been an instinctual, in the moment type thing. But he also wasn't ambivalent to Melchior. And in the moment of it all happening he had certainly felt something strong. Something crazy and desperate. So maybe he doesn't love Melchior but maybe he could. Maybe he will.   
But the next day he sees him in class laughing with Moritz and Ernst feels absolutely nothing except a little embarrassment. Certainly not love.   
He doesn't really face the repercussions of his actions till a little less than a month later once finals are over. Ilse had a sleepover to celebrate the end of Sophmore year and they're sitting up late around the circle playing “never have I ever” with Martha, Thea, Wendla, Anna, Ilse, Marianna, and Moritz. It's late in the game and almost all the good things have been said. On Mari’s turn she thinks for a moment before saying,   
“Never have I ever done, butt stuff.” She says it like something sacrilegious, leaning in quietly and everyone giggles. Ilse’s finger goes down and a few people gape but Thea just shrugs, then Ernst slips his own finger down, hoping no one will notice. He considers just lying but it would be “against the rules” and he's too much of a kid to break them.  
“No! Really Ernst?” Anna says, eyes wide and face exaggerated. Ernst nods the guiltily.   
“But you've never dated anyone.” Thea protests in disbelief, an edge to her voice.   
“Well I wasn't dating him okay?” Ernst protests.  
“Who was it? You have to tell!” Ilse exclaims authoritatively.   
“Melchior.” He replies, looking down, his shoes suddenly fascinating. The gasps are audible.  
“Melchior Gabor?! Are you serious?” Thea exclaims her eyes wide. Ernst suddenly becomes acutely aware of Moritz’s face turning red and he averts his eyes in shame.  
“But, but, you’ve never even said you liked Melchior? You never told me you had a crush on him or something.” Moritz asks Ernst his voice shaking a little.  
“I didn’t.” Ernst tells him, his voice hollow suddenly. “I just got caught up in the moment. I don't know. We both wanted to.”I just got caught up in the moment.”  
“You just got caught up in the MOMENT?” Moritz says his eyes wide. Ernst blushes, tinting his tan cheeks pink, and he feels as if all their eyes are on him. Moritz looks shattered but it’s Thea who breaks the uncomfortable silence that fills the room.  
“No offence but that’s super slutty of you Ernst.” The words hit him like a punch in the gut.  
“Thea!” Anna shouts, her loud soprano voice cutting through the room. “That’s not even true and an awful thing to say. You can be with whomever you want Ernst.” She tells him smiling. Anna’s words would cheer him up, she has that power, but it’s too late and Thea’s damage is done.  
“I’m just saying. I mean you’re not on my cousin’s level but…” She trails off. Ernst feels his pulse race at the mention of Hans Rilow. They’d all been close until about two months ago when he cheated on Max von Trenk with Stanley Anderson. It wouldn’t have been that bad if they hadn’t all found out because Stan had sent one of his friends Hanschen’s nudes and soon nearly the whole school had seen them. It was a mess and Thea had promptly cut ties. Ernst wasn’t sure what side he was on in the whole feud, he’d always had a bit of a crush on Hanschen. But he wasn’t going to cross Thea.  
“Look let’s all forget it okay, maybe the boys should go get changed up?” Wendla offers, always the peacemaker and the others nod in agreement.   
“We’ll stay here you two can go to the basement.” Ilse offers. “Sorry Ernst, but my mom will freak if we have boys sleeping in the same room as us and I can’t like, tell her you’re gay. I’m in hot water with her enough as it is.”  
“Got it.” He says, happy the conversation has moved away and grabs his bag with Moritz in tow. They reach the bottom of the stairs and Ernst has barely laid down his bag before he feels the other boy grab his shoulder and push him against a wall.  
“Moritz? What are you doing!?” Ernst looks at his friend with fearful eyes. He finds his face stony and enraged. He finds his own eyes shifting towards the door, unsure of what is even happening. Moritz is a boy of shy tendencies, he’s tender and awkward. Fumbling at worst. Never like this. Ernst has never feared him before. But right now he looks as if he could hurt him, really hurt him. And it’s like his world has been turned upside down.  
“Why? You knew I liked him! He was my best friend! You two weren’t even close! I can’t believe you would do this, Ernst how could you do this?” Moritz spits the words at his face and he flinches of shamefully.  
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think, I’m an awful friend I know. I just really wanted him.” Ernst tells him truthfully.  
“Could you have not kept it in your fucking pants? Is it that hard? Christ Ernst I thought you were supposed to be some good Christian.” Now it’s Ernst’s turn to get pissed and his face contorts in anger.  
“Look I didn’t force him okay? It takes two to tango Moritz-” He barely finishes the boy’s name before he slaps him across the face. It takes Ernst a minute to even register it happening, just stares at him in shock touching his cheek. All the anger goes out of Moritz’s face and he looks as if a fire has been put out in him.  
“Ernst I’m so sorry oh my God.” He says it softly, his voice shaking. Ernst reaches to put a hand on his shoulder and the boy collapses into tears.  
“Oh, oh, my.” Ernst says awkwardly watching Moritz cry, he goes to embrace his friend but finds the arms that wrap around him in return tighter than ever. Before he even knows what is happening Moritz has pulled out of the hug and is kissing him, wetting Ernst’s cheeks with his own tears.  
“Moritz, you don’t want this.” Ernst tells him as they pull away but it is like the other boy can’t hear him and he goes back to kissing. And Ernst isn’t stopping him. Finally, he pulls away again. “Can I do this for you? Will this make it better? Will this make you hurt less?”  
“I don’t know. Just please, Ernst.” Moritz’s voice is raw and pleading and Ernst can’t say no to him. He pulls off his shirt clumsily.  
“Okay.”  
They spend the night down there together. When it is over they lie next to each other on the blow up mattress Ilse’s mom has laid out for them. Moritz lying flat, Ernst curled up next to him. As he falls asleep he thinks maybe about a life with Moritz Stiefel, about loving Moritz Stiefel, he can see it much clearer than he could with Melchior. About kissing him in the street and making him smile. About never causing him any pain ever again.  
But then they wake up and Moritz goes to brush his teeth and doesn’t meet Ernst’s eyes.  
“Let’s not talk about this again, let’s not tell anyone.” Moritz says, not as a question but as a statement. And Ernst nods his head in agreement because now that seems to be the course of action that makes sense. He shares flapjacks with Wendla at breakfast and pretends it is all cool.  
It isn’t even till he gets home that he notices the dull ache in his chest. That night he opens up his sketchbook and draws it all. The tiled floor that Melchior had laid him out on, lips puffy from kisses, Moritz’s angry eyes, his hand winding up for the slap, the way he looked beneath him on the mattress, the spider infested ceiling of Ilse’s basement, everything. He can’t say he’s healed but it at least helps.  
He takes his sketchbook with him to church camp, as now he can’t leave it home. His mom is tearful as the bus comes for him (after all Ernst you’re going to be a counselor this year I can’t believe it I remember when you were a camper your first year you cried so much!) and his father is smiling and giving him advice on counseling (and if you meet a girl you have your eye on write to me immediately and I’ll make sure you don’t fall on your face in front of her) (Luis!) (just trying to help Bendita). Between the two of them and his five sisters who all came to bid him goodbye he’s surprised he even got on the bus at all.   
He isn’t sure what draws him to Otto Lammermeier. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re literally the only non white people on the campgrounds (Otto is filipino he tells him). Or the fact that they manage the same group of kids. Or maybe it’s just that they both discover a shared love for Hallmark movies early on. But either way the summer turns into a dream because of him. Laughing and tickling and teasing. Carrying the kids back to their bunks with words unsaid hanging between them. At the last campfire of the summer the two hold hands. They are the last to leave, sitting on the wood, hands still clenched together, staring at the dwindling embers. Ernst leans across, carefully, and touches the other boy’s face, kissing him softly. Otto emits a gasp of his own.  
“We should go somewhere private.” He says suddenly and Ernst has to laugh at that, and the concentration on the other boy’s face.  
“Yes, we do.” And he takes his hand and leads him to their cabin wordlessly. It’s as their undressing that Otto taps his shoulder.  
“I’m not some slutty gay.” He says bluntly.  
“Okay.” Ernst responds, continuing at pulling his skinny jeans off.  
“No seriously, I know you’ve probably heard that before but this isn’t an afterschool special like I’m really not gay.”  
“Well I am.” Ernst tells him, planting a kiss on his hand as he drops to his knees.  
“Yeah well, look Ernst you’re an awesome guy and all that so I don’t want you thinking you’re getting a boyfriend out of this or something. Because you’re not. Because I don’t date guys. Because I’m not gay.” Otto tells him as Ernst makes his way to the other boy’s zipper, their shirts sticking to their backs in the humid cabin.  
“Trust me I got it okay?” Ernst tells him.  
“Great.”   
They don’t really speak after that. Short words in the morning and a tight hug goodbye as they board separate buses. Now, Ernst Robel isn’t one to judge but he’ll say only this, Otto Lammermeier sure didn’t sound like a straight man that night. But that’s none of his business.  
Otto in his camp t-shirt dunking a little girl in the lake goes in the sketchbook, as does his firelit face, and their intertwined crucifixes on their bare chests.  
Junior year is strange and has a hard beginning. Still, Thea has made sure (intentionally or not he can’t tell) he now has a reputation which is in some ways a blessing in disguise. He doesn’t have to worry about how he is viewed anymore. And no one thinks of him as innocent or someone a fast one can be pulled on. He thinks about trying things with Melchior or Moritz again but finds they finally started dating over the summer. Instead he meets up with a boy from his Chem class, Dieter something, behind a gas station in October. By midterms Dieter has moved on from him to someone else. His grinning face and nicotine stained fingers get a full page in his sketchbook. His thick Israeli accent echoes in his ears. He can barely focus on anything as he studies for midterms late at night in the local library, the room is quiet and empty, so when he sees to khaki covered legs enter his line of sight his heart jumps a bit and he gasps in shock.  
“Are-are you okay?” The boy asks and Ernst looks up to see the sloppy face of Bobby Maler in a grey t-shirt and purple hoodie. His honey blonde hair looks messy from probably days without washing thanks to exams and his face is stressed with concentration.   
“Sorry, you just frightened me. I was studying really hard.” Ernst says and Bobby nods in understanding. He slips down beside him. Ernst looks closer at him and notices bloodshot eyes tinged with red. “Hey, is everything alright Bobby?”  
“Yeah, no I’m fine, it’s nothing. Everything is FINE.” Normally Ernst would just assume that the other boy was just stoned but he can’t help but think he sees the traces of tears on his face and he’ll be damned if he lets the small fifteen year old cry in a library alone.   
“Bobby, what’s the matter? You look as if you’ve been crying.” Ernst means to say it tenderly but something in it must have set him off because he bursts right back into tears, throwing his head into the other boy’s shoulder, chest heaving.  
“I just-I’m going to fail my midterms I can’t focus! My boyfriend just broke up with me and my parents are going to kill me! I can never do anything right! My older brother is perfect and they probably love him more and if I can’t get at least a 97 average this semester they’re gonna flip and I’m probably not gonna get into a good college and oh my god I’m such a mess! And he probably dumped me because he knew I was a mess and he didn’t want anything to do with me and I just really wanna die okay!” He finishes with another tremendous sob leaving a stunned Ernst with nothing to do but pat his back and stroke his hair awkwardly. After a few minutes of that he calms down and looks up. “Sorry. Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”  
“It’s fine, you’re fine. I’m freaking out about exams myself. And I was just dropped as well. So I can relate.” Ernst tells him soothingly and the other boy’s breathing calms down and he nods a little. “And I’m sure you’re doing fine in school. I mean, you’re doing far better than me.”  
“Not by their standards.” Bobby says bitterly. Ernst doesn’t know what to say in response to that and goes for humor.  
“The only way I can think of getting an ex off your mind is getting someone else’s dick in your mouth honestly.” Ernst jokes and Bobby laughs loudly in response. The two fling their heads back against the books in a sigh for a moment before the laugher dwindles and Bobby turns to face him his face shyly earnest.  
“Seriously?” He asks.  
“Let’s find a quieter corner immediately.” Ernst tells him suddenly, springing up.  
“I’m only doing this to help my grades okay? I’m not usually like this much of a slut or something. Yikes I sound like a closet case.” Bobby says to Ernst kneeling below him. “I mean not that I’m not attracted to you I just aren’t usually this quick to jump in-Oh God.”  
Ernst walks home alone on the icy streets and hopes the other aces his finals. His sticky khakis and red eyes end up in the corner of his sketchbook before the week is out. He thinks about talking to him again after the holidays. But, by February Bobby is dating Max von Trenk and the idea is put to rest.  
It’s March and he’s been flirting with the boy who sits next to him in Latin for the whole school year. Georg Zirschnitz isn’t closeted or unaware of his sexuality. But maybe, Ernst ponders at night, he thinks the attention too good to be true. Or Ernst isn’t his type. Or, the thing that really keeps him up all night, that he has figured it out and just doesn’t want Ernst. Thinks Ernst is too “used” or something like that. That’s what really freaks him out. Nevertheless, it’s been agonizing months of dropping his pencil on the floor and bending down to pick it up, asking again and again for a Latin translation he didn’t fully need, and worst of all, pretending to care about Georg’s weird crush on his middle aged piano teacher. Ernst has exhausted every movie trope and teen vogue tip he could find. It was useless. Georg Zirschnitz was either straight or blind. And he had suitable evidence that neither was true. They were meant to be conversing in Latin when he turned to him and said bluntly:  
“When are you going to take hint?”  
“Ernst we’re not supposed to talk in English-wait what?!” Georg says switching from Latin to English abruptly, his face turning red. Ernst scowls at him in exasperation, he has a kind nature, a calming nature, but some things even he can’t handle.  
“Look I haven’t been exactly subtle okay! It’s been months Georg I thought you could pick up on hints!” Ernst hisses at him across the table, trying to keep his voice as low as possible with the desired intensity.  
“No! I didn’t get it I’m sorry! I don’t even know what you’re trying to say!” Georg fiddles awkwardly with his glasses. “Like are you mad at me? Because I don’t know what I did? Seriously we’ve been friends a long time but I don’t think I ever did anything to you…” Georg trails off, chewing his pencil.  
“You never did anything to me.” Ernst tells him with a smile. “It’s what you didn’t do!”  
“I don’t understand!” Georg yells. The teacher shoots them a look and they quiet down and sink lower in their seats. “I don’t understand Ernst.” Georg repeats softly.  
“I’m into you Georg.” Ernst tells him slowly and deliberately, caught between a blush and a laugh. Georg chokes.  
“Like in what way?”  
“Like in a sexual way.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.” Georg said nothing for a moment just stared at him in blatant disbelief. Ernst would’ve really laughed at this point if his nature didn’t go against it. He settled for what he hoped was a comforting smile.  
“So...do we go to your place tonight then?” Georg asks tentatively.  
“If you want to.” Ernst replies. “Because I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you.”  
“No! I want to I really want to! I’ve just never done this before. I just, like, I don’t wanna be a slut about it.” Georg says anxiously. Ernst cringes a little at the wording but ignores.  
“Trust me, you won’t...no. It’s all fine. Let’s go somewhere after school today if you want to.” Ernst says.  
“I have homework.” Georg responds but a look from Ernst makes him reconsider. “Your house or mine?”  
“Your’s. My parents don’t know.”  
“Oh that sucks.”  
“Let’s not talk about it.” Ernst tells him turning back to his Latin. “I’ll come over around five is that good for you? Will your parents be home?”  
“Uh, nope.”  
“Great, I’ll um see you then.”   
“Cool.”   
They meet at Georg’s house that night. Ernst tells his parents he’s going to Wendla’s who is happy to cover for him. The heat is turned on in Georg’s house but even though it’s March the room is kind of drafty and once they are done he’s wrapped himself in the duvet as the other boy plays the keyboard across the room. He’d said it meant nothing, he was just practicing for his lesson, but Ernst was smiling anyway.   
“Can I come over Saturday? I want to see you again.” Ernst says as he sits on the bed. His voice startles Georg and he stops playing and whips around on his chair.  
“Sorry I forgot you were here Ernst. But, uh I can’t. I have temple. And after is my cousin’s Bat Mitzvah. So I’m booked all day. Can you do Sunday?” Georg says awkwardly.  
“I have Church.” Ernst can’t help being a little aghast.   
“RIght, of course. That was stupid of me.” Georg glances at the cross still hanging around Ernst’s next. It had clicked against his Star of David when their bodies had been close.   
“Well I’ll meet you again soon.” Ernst tells him.  
“Yeah I’ll call you as soon as I can.”   
When Ernst gets home a naked Georg at the piano enters his sketchbook. The two meet up for about a month more until Georg ends it.  
“Look Ernst you’re awesome but I feel uncomfortable being with someone who like isn’t going to tell his parents and I don’t like going behind my parent’s backs and I don’t know it’s just not great for me.” Ernst says it doesn’t matter. They hadn’t even really dated, it had just been sex. But a sweaty Star of David on a gold chain and hands cleaning glasses and sheet music on the floor amidst discarded clothes gets a few pages in his sketchbook.   
Ilse invites him to a party at her house to get over it. The music is blasting like something out of a John Hughes film and after a few minutes she's abandoned him to hook up with Wendla in the bathroom. Good for her. He's sitting on a couch sipping a beer when Melchior drapes himself beside him and begins comiserating his week old break up with Moritz. It isn't long before Ernst interrupts the other boy critically.  
“Didn't you cheat on him?” Ernst said softly after Moritz’s name had been cursed too many times for his liking. Melchior scowls.  
“Look, a handjob is the above ground swimming pool of sexual activities. That doesn't count as cheating.” Ernst laughs a little at this.  
“I'm sure Moritz loved when you said that.”  
“You know what?” Melchior says accusingly and pushes the other boy away for a second before sobering up. “Honestly it's not like I was getting anything from him.”  
“Doesn't give you a right to cheat.” Ernst tells him, taking another sip of his beer once he was done.   
“Okay but he wasn't a virgin I mean you would know it was dumb.” Melchior continues whining.  
“Sure Melchior.” Ernst replies and leans back on the sofa. It's then that he notices a tall, broad boy enter the room. He's holding Marianna’s hand and laughing. “Otto?!” Ernst exclaims and the boy’s head turns his face widening into a smile.   
“Ernst! I thought I would see you here. I wanted to surprise you though.” Otto walks over to him and Ernst hops up from the couch and meets him across the room. “How are you?”  
“I'm fine, just got- I'm fine. And you?” Ernst asks. Mari and Otto look at each other and laugh.   
“I guess I should say I'm terrible but I'm the best I've been all year.” Ernst looks confused but he slows down and explains. “I got kicked out. I'm living with Mari now.”   
“What? Why?” Ernst asks but then thinks better of it. “I'm sorry about that. Your parents freaked out?”  
“I mean it could've been worse. My mom cried a lot. But then it was sort of like live here and be straight or move out and be gay. And I wanted to move because I don't want to be that guy. I mean I was awful to you. But like I still call my mom sometimes. And they love me I'm just waiting for this to blow over. They'll adjust.”  
“I'm happy for you?” Ernst says cautiously. Marianna snickers sweetly.  
“No you can be happy. I'm happy. So how are you? How are things at your place?” Otto asks.  
“My parents don't know yet if that's what you're asking.” Ernst responds numbly.  
“Oh I'm sorry…”  
“I'm just chicken. They wouldn't...I'm not scared...it's just...ah….” Ernst trails off awkwardly. Looking around he tries to think of how to divert the conversation. Finally, he figures it out. Walking to the sofa he pulls a still bitter Melchior to his feet. “Do you two know each other?”  
“Uh nope.” Melchior says and Otto nods his head in agreement. Marianna smiles broadly.  
“You should you totally should!” She says touching Ernst’s arm lightly in encouragement.  
“Otto, this is Melchior, Otto and I met at church camp. “ Ernst says gesturing for them to shake hands. Awkwardly, they oblige. “Well I’m gonna go, but you two should talk.” Ernst tells them making his way across the room. The two sit down and begin to talk as Ernst notices, across the room, Hanschen Rilow sitting alone. An embroidered denim jacket hangs off his broad form and the fluorescent light from an ikea lamp illuminates his dark, freckled skin. He looks up and meets Ernst’s eyes with a knowing smile for a moment.  
“Hey.” He says, waving him over.  
“What’s up?” Ernst responds, going to sit cross legged in front of him. Hanschen shrugs and gestures towards the party.  
“This shit. And you?”  
“Same.” Ernst responds. “But like it’s just temporary right? Like it’s just high school. It doesn’t matter. I mean one day I’ll be in a good job all settled down and comfortable and this won’t matter.”  
“You really believe that?” Hanschen asks critically.  
“I don’t know. It makes it easier doesn’t it? When people hurt me or whatever I can just remind myself that I’m gonna be like a pastor or something and people will respect me and I’ll have a really nice herb garden and things will be mellow.”  
“And you want that?”  
“What?”  
“To be like a respectable pastor and live some boring life?” Ernst blushes deeply.  
“Why not?” He bites and then goes back on his words. “It’s what makes sense. It’s what my parents want.” Hanschen says nothing. “What would you want? What do you want?”  
The other boy paused for a minute thinking when his lips parted to form the words there was an air of fantasy in his eyes.  
“When I think about the future I always see velvet. Beautiful men and women with open mouths waiting for me. Eyes that are just half closed in drowsy expectation. And no one telling me what to do. I’m in control. No pretention, no pretense. Just emotion.” Hanschen tells him. “That’s what I imagine.  
“Christ.” Ernst whispers.  
“Does it top your’s?” Hanschen asks, the smirk returning to his face.   
“Oh, God yes.” Ernst says and Hanschen’s lips are on his and his hand is stroking his face. Ernst is kissing him back sloppily, shock wearing off rather quickly. He pulls away after a moment and stares into the boy’s dark eyes. “We should go somewhere else. Somewhere alone. Please, Hanschen, please.” An itch in his nerves and soul craves the other boy’s taste and touch and face. He’s ready to get heartbroken again.  
“You don’t want this.” Hanschen responds suddenly, regret marking his face.  
“What?! You kissed me!” Ernst shoots defensively.  
“That was a mistake. Look I’m moving to DC to live with my dad. He got elected to state senate and he wants me with him. You don’t deserve this. I’m an asshole.” Ernst wants to protest, wants to say it’s just one night, that he’s not looking for a boyfriend, that Hanschen will come back soon, that they can do something. But it all sounds false. Either too much commitment or too little. He settles for storming off back over to Marianna, quickly. His feet hit the ground hard as if to drown out his heart thumping with the pain of embarrassment and rejection. He finds Marianna alone with a lime in her mouth. She removes it when she sees him.  
“Oh, Melchior and Otto went back to Melchi’s place. They told me to tell you thanks.” She giggles, placing her head on Barbara Light’s lap who runs her fingers through her hair. Ernst nods and steps outside into the cold April wind. He refuses to cry. It doesn’t fucking matter.  
The rest of the school year is a blur. There’s a few guys, Rupert, the main one but some others whose names he tries to forget but they all end up clouding up the pages of his now bursting sketchbook. Hanschen is the only one left out, though he once began to trace his sly eyes but stopped his hand harshly.   
That summer he doesn’t go back to Church Camp. Instead he takes art classes and gets a job at the country club his family can’t afford. Ignoring the parents who’ve heard things about him from their children. Martha finds Moritz’s journal by accident in late July where he talked about her and they start dating. They become that gross straight couple who always massage each other’s shoulders and whisper jokes in their ears. Ilse and Wendla are always around and kissing relentlessly. Labor day weekend Thea and him go to a pool party. They end up taking care of Anna, who was vomiting in the bathroom with possible alcohol poisoning. Thea carries her home. Ernst isn’t even surprised when they’re sitting in each other’s laps next week, Anna playing with Thea’s short red hair and laughing as she leans in to plant messy kisses on her neck.   
It’s during the first few weeks of school that he breaks. It's at Wendla’s house when it happens and she rubs his back as he cries into a mug of hot cider with the words “Congratulations Ethel and Dan!” printed on it in ugly script.   
“It's okay baby.” She's repeating, trying to soothe him a little. He looks up at her disdainfully, dark eyes red with tears.   
“You should've let me have alcohol, it would've gone better with the tears than this.” He says ruefully, gesturing to the steamy cup.   
“Ernst you have a bit of a drinking problem and I don't want to encourage it.”  
“That's so not true!”  
“It kind of is.” She says primly and he wants to point out that she's never said that Anna has a drinking problem despite her adventure in the bathroom or even Ilse who once hooked up with the school mascot in costume while drunk at a party. But he bites his tongue. “Besides look how much you're enjoying the cider! Every time your crying slows down you take huge gulps.” She says trying to make him smile.   
“That's because I'm trying to get drunk off it.”   
“You can't get drunk off of non alcoholic cider Ernst.”   
“I can try.” He takes another swig of his mug as an example and she laughs lightly before hearing him start to cry again and contorting her face back to one of placid comfort. “I hate this so much. I'm literally the only kid I know who's alone.”  
“No! You're wrong! You're so wrong.” Wendla shouts at him.   
“Oh really? You and Ilse have been in fuckinig love since she sang that “I love you baby song” to you on the steps last year like you guys are characters from 10 Things I hate About You. Martha and Moritz started dating this summer. Otto and Melchior hook up at a party and suddenly they've hopelessly fallen for each other. And now Anna and Thea.” Ernst wipes his eyes for a moment and breathes, ignoring his friend’s shocked expression. “It's not that I'm jealous of any of you guys! I'm happy for you! I just, I hate being like the slutty best friend.”   
Wendla decides correcting his self description is for another time. “Marianna is single you know. It's not just you.”  
“She's ARO it doesn't matter to her.” And Marianna, had two best friends who gave her all their attention he wants to add.   
“What about Georg? I bet you two could even try dating again.”   
“We never even really dated. Besides he met some girl on birthright over the summer and now they have this perfect relationship where he's always texting her and they're gonna have like a million Jewish babies or something.”   
“Okay, okay. But Ernst,” she hesitates for a moment, “you've been with more people than I have.”   
Now is when the real sobs happen and she's taken aback. “It hasn't mattered. It hasn't been like this. Of course I've, you know, liked it, they've all been great. But I don't want just that anymore.” He hiccups through his words and she places the sides on her bedside table and resolves to just hold him.   
That was the thing he realized as he went home. He didn't regret the sex. He didn't regret any of the boys. He regretted not getting more from them. He regretted the moment after when he lay alone with only his memories. He regretted that they had him but he'd never had them.  
He decides to put them to good use. On every college interview and portfolio he includes his sketchbook or art inspired by it. At the colleges he wants most he brings it along and tells the stories behind each odd object that clutters it. Everything from the locker room’s tiled floor to Rupert’s leather jacket gets admiring looks and practiced praise from the interviewers. He’s always hated the phrase “art comes from pain.” And he still does. But at least he can work it for himself. He goes to art class and anxiously tells his teacher of his pursuits. It's one of these days that his teacher interrupts him and ushers another student over.  
“Ernst, you remember Hans Rilow from last semester right? Of course you do you boys must've known each other since kindergarten.” He laughs uncomfortably as the two boys stare at each other. “Well, he just moved back here from DC. I thought you could maybe show him the ropes in this class. After all, you're one of my best students.” Ernst smiles gratefully.   
“Okay, can I show you the easels?” Ernst gesture towards them at the back of the room and Hanschen follows him willingly. After the teacher is out of earshot the boys’ posture relaxes and their faces become more familiar. “Why are you here? I thought your dad had a senate seat. Did he get recalled or something?”  
Hanschen shifts his weight from foot to foot, tugging awkwardly at his shirt. “Nah, he's still in DC. We lived in the huge house in Virginia like a fucking mansion.” He lets the words sink in before going on. “But, we had some differences so now I'm living with my Aunt and Uncle here.”  
“Some differences?”  
“He didn't want me around. Didn't like what I was doing for his image. I'm not the all American boy here.” Hanschen says it sarcastically. “It wasn't even much of a fight, one day my stuff was just packed. It could've been worse”   
Ernst winces for a moment. He didn't know Klaus Rilow. They’d seen each other at school events once in a blue moon, and he saw his face on posters once in a while. His jaw always held high and his eyes blazing. But Thea was his niece. And there had been late night talks at sleepovers when she'd let stuff slip out. Nothing much, just little things like “if I did something like that and Uncle Klaus found out” or “he's a bitch to be around at family parties especially once we've got the wine out.” It wasn't a lot but Ernst could get the idea. And he could only imagine what “worse” could mean to Hanschen. Nothing good and he was desperate to change the subject.  
“So, why are you taking art this semester? You never took it before.”  
“They cut jazz band. So it was this or join marching band but I'm not a stuck up heathen.” Hanschen tells him grinning. Ernst laughs despite himself. Georg and Thea both do marching band. “Besides I do love art. Like maybe I'll be a curator or something. I mean who drew this one, it's incredible.” He gestures towards one of the easels. Ernst flushes with pleasure.   
“Me. And I wouldn't say incredible.”   
“I certainly would. It's better than half the trash in here.”  
“Art can't be wrong. Everyone is really good.” Ernst tells him defensively.   
“Sure Ernst.” The shorter boy says raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, your stuff is so good even my idiot WASP-y family would appreciate it.”   
“That sounds like a lie to me.” Ernst’s laugh is coming out as an awkward snort and he puts his hand over his face smiling.   
“Hey, I'm many things, not a liar.”  
“Sure Hanschen.” He says imitating his earlier phrase. They break into a laugh both grinning. “I better get to my lunch. I don't actually have art this period. I take AP art.”   
“See you Ernst.” He tells him giving his arm a stroke as he goes to walk away. Ernst pretends he didn't notice.   
Thea and Ilse wait in the doorway. Ilse swings her bag over her arm but Thea is poised with a face of disgust. “Really?” She says to him.  
“What?” He responds.  
“You are anything but subtle you blush like a virgin bride. Honestly Ernst he's like the biggest slut in our school. I heard there were like six boys in DC alone and God knows how many girls.” She spits the words from careful lips with less intention for malice then she gives off. “But I mean I guess it make sense. You're almost as big one as he is.”  
The words hit him in the gut and he can say nothing but instead opens and closes his mouth in shock. The words are familiar and should mean nothing to him. And yet. Ilse places her hands on her hips and scowls.   
“Fuck off Thea.”  
“Oh come on! You know it's true Ilse! It takes one to now one isn't that what they say?” Thea laughs.  
“Let's go to lunch.” Ilse says firmly grabbing Ernst’s hand in her own and adjusting her head scarf.   
“Why are you guys so sensitive? Christ.” Thea days and is left standing alone in confusion.   
Ilse is over at Ernst’s house as he stands in his doorway anxiously holding an envelope. “Can you open it?” He asks her. She shakes her head firmly.   
“My experience is you gotta do it yourself. Take control of your own life.” She places his tan fingers on the fold gently. Cringing he goes to tear it the edges and through squinting eyes looks at the paper.  
Accepted. His heart swells. Ilse takes him in her long arms and holds him.  
Things don’t get instantly better from that point by a long shot. But his parents are proud of him and glad about the amount of money the school offered him. He has a new confidence to him being the first of his friends to get an acceptance letter thanks to early decision. And he spends more time with Ilse who is willing to give him love and good advice whenever Wendla is busy with her fifty million extracurriculars. She texts him excitedly of a holiday party at Melchior Gabor’s house. His first response is resistance, he’s had enough of gross parties for a lifetime. But she pressures him, free booze! dance music! holiday themed baked goods! she wanted to dress him up! Wendla was away so he would have her attention if necessary! He eventually agrees and finds himself wearing a black v-neck that fits him tighter than he is used to and covered in body glitter (it’s festive Ernst!). Melchior’s mom puts out Christmas and Hannukah themed dixie cups which were quickly filled with a punch containing God knows what but it was sure as hell working. Merry Christmas.  
Ilse, despite promising him attention, has soon gotten caught up with karaoke in the other room and is drunkenly belting heart of glass while Melchior lies on the shag rug playing with Otto’s hair. Ernst gets up to go cross over to the kitchen to refill the cookie bowl. He walks through a darkened hallway where he finds Max Von Trenk and Bobby Maler playing a drunken game of Candy Land that involves either taking a shot, taking off clothes, or kissing every time one is sent back a square. He makes his way past this gingerly and is almost in the kitchen’s alcove when a strong hand on his wrist stops him. He looks down and is greeted with sweaty hair and dim, hungry eyes, Stan Anderson.  
“Hey Ernst.” He slurs pulling him into the next room effortlessly. Ernst doesn’t even have a moment to struggle before the door has been closed and he’s held against a wall sloppily.   
“Stan let me go I wanna go to the party.” Ernst tries to tell him calmly but he’s not listened to and the other boy is kissing his neck. “Stan please I wanna go. We’re both way too drunk for this.” But again his words aren’t listened to and now the boy is holding him tighter and gropping at him with rougher hands. “Stan let me go!” Now he yells it and tries to move and finds himself pulled down onto the carpet. His teeth bang together and make his skull verberate and his knees ache from impact. He looks up and is greeted with a wall of smiling baby pictures of Melchior. Stan’s mouth is at his ear and his body on top of him.  
“C’mon Ernst, c’mon, this’ll be fine. It’s good. It’s all good.” He repeats. And Ernst thinks to just give up, letting his body relax and stop squirming. It’s no big deal, he’s heard Stan was a good lay anyways, it won’t hurt if he gives in, at least not that much, he’s too tired to fight, he’d probably consent if they were sober, it doesn’t even-”I knew you were too much of a slut to fight back.”  
The words stop his thought process like a train. Because suddenly every inch of his body rebels. No. He is not going to let this happen. He is not going to let himself be used like this. He is not going to go to college as a statistic on sexual assault amongst queer youths in high school. He is not going to get fucking raped while staring at a picture of Melchior Gabor of all people. No. He’s down with bitter irony. This isn’t going to happen. At least not without a fight.   
“Get the fuck off me!” He shouts and starts kicking again, harder this time. Stan’s grip had loosened since his body relaxing and he is able to wriggle his way out from under him. The other boy grabs his foot but he pulls back and kicks him hard in the jaw. He stands up, shaking and faces the boy staring at him, struggling to his feet. “If you come after me I’ll scream and Max will hear he’s right down the hall. He’s been looking for an excuse to beat the shit out of you since Sophomore year anyway.” Stan shirks back for a moment at that, Ernst’s words having the desired effect. He takes the opportunity to run out of the room and into the kitchen. The cookies are now forgotten and he pushes open the screen door of the porch and runs across the lawn. Ignoring Thea and Anna who lie together exchanging drunken vows of love and stroking each other’s hair. He’s almost at the road when a voice stops him.  
“Ernst?” Hanschen Rilow calls from where he sits by the road side and Ernst’s head whips around in anger.  
“What do you want?” He screams.  
“Nothing! Are you okay?” Hanschen asks, taken aback.  
“Perfect. I just almost got date raped by Stanley Anderson.” Ernst spits.  
“Are you okay? Do I need to go beat him up?” Hanschen says jumping to his feet but Ernst waves him down.  
“It’s fine I took care of it.”  
“I remember when I slept with Stan. He was always too rough. I should’ve told someone. You could’ve known to look out for him.” Ernst’s face softens at this and he goes to sit down beside the other boy.  
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He repeats it and Hanschen smiles just slightly. “I’m so tired of being told that what I do turns me into something.”  
“I know exactly what you mean.” Hanschen responds.  
“You do?”  
“Yeah! It’s like, oh no big whoop de doo I sleep with a lot of people that doesn’t have anything to do with my personality or my integrity or whatever. It means I like sex, a lot. Like I’m not hiding some internal issue and I don’t always want to have sex and I don’t want it with everyone. I just like it more than most and get it more than most.” Hanschen explains. “Do you follow?” Ernst nods and Hanschen continues. “Look, you can spend your whole life working to get laid slaving over one awkward sexual interaction. Or, you can get it over with but fucking it up and spend the rest of your life being upset about it. Or, you can be like me, and just glide through it. Take what comes at you and enjoy. Just only get the sweeter bits of life. And this goes for anything in my opinion.”  
“Just the sweet bits? I like that.” Ernst says with smile, pretending not to notice the other boy moving closer.  
“Right, like everyone tells me what to do. My friends, my dad, my school, everyone wants to shape me into something. And I say fine, appease all of them and none of them. At the end of the day put yourself first. There’s no should, there’s no right. There’s just here and now and the moment and what you want.” He glances at Ernst now and the other boy finds himself smiling just a little. “My dad can spend his whole life telling me what to do. And I’m not gonna spit it back in his face like Gabor or fuck it up forever like Moritz. I’m gonna pretend to do it but in the end get what I want. I’m done with trying to be him. I’m done with meeting expectations.”  
“Me too.” Ernst tells him enthusiastically.  
“This is here this is now. I want things now and I’m gonna take them. The moment doesn’t last forever.”  
“That’s pretty sad.” Ernst is shocked to think it, he’s used to thinking only in terms of the future but suddenly the present is pretty appealing.   
“Don’t let it be.” Hanschen says and kisses him. And it’s not like the last time they kissed. It’s sweeter and smoother and feels like a completion or an afterward. Ernst lets his head fall down into the wet, slick grass, and the cool December wind stops bothering him.   
“I was so afraid this would never happen.” Ernst tells him when they come up to breathe.  
“Don’t be. It’s happened. It’s happened and it’s lovely.” Hanschen tells him with a smile, his hand stroking his face.   
“You kissed me before but,” he pauses, “it's not like I'm saying that didn't count because we didn't have sex because I don't mean that and-”  
“I understand.” Hanschen laughs. “We weren't ready yet but we are now.”  
“Is this just a moment? Are we just a lovely fleeting second?” Ernst asks the question as one afraid of the answer.   
“I don't know. I don't want us to be.” Hanschen tells him and Ernst kisses him this time, lips brushing slightly with less drunken frevor as the last one.   
“I've never felt this way about anyone. I've never felt something this rich I-” Ernst clears his throat afraid of what his lips will betray next. “I love you.”  
Hanschen stares blankly as if he doesn't understand and then nods slowly. “I think-I think I…” He stutters for nearly the first time in his life and that's enough for Ernst. He settles for letting their bodies be pulled into each other again and for feeling the closeness of the other boy. Smelling the minty shampoo he uses for his air and the beer on his breath. Hanschen smells the paint that seems to always coat Ernst’s every atom and the cold sweat that he's drenched in.   
They lie there on the grass all night. Holding each other until the sprinklers come on and they are kicked out, sopping wet to Hanschen’s house. Ernst walks home alone at six in the morning with a grin.   
That afternoon he stands in the alcove of his living room. His parents sitting on the couch next to the freshly put up Christmas tree. The scent fills his nose and in his hand he clasps a bursting sketch book. One he's never showed them before. One full of coffee stains and heartbreak.   
“Mom, Dad…”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Almost all the characters were people of color if that wasn't clear. Ernst is Latina, Hanschen is black etc. Lydia has good hcs for their fics about ethnicities so swing over to shippingeverything for more of that. I am aware I basically rewrote the vineyard scene. I did it because I wanted to.


End file.
